


Chatterbox

by divisionten



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Character Study, Family Bonding, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23976880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divisionten/pseuds/divisionten
Summary: Morgana /can/ talk. Sojiro just needs to learn to listen.(Spoilers through 12/19. No Royal spoilers, though this fic can work in either)Inspired by... Sojiro gets a cat by proxy and learns to deal
Comments: 20
Kudos: 283
Collections: Quality Persona Fics





	Chatterbox

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sojiro gets a cat by proxy and learns to deal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12022086) by [thatoldeblackmagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatoldeblackmagic/pseuds/thatoldeblackmagic). 



> I just beat Royal and I have feelings, okay?
> 
> This is my first Persona fic, even though I've been with the fandom since P3Fes came out. Thanks, random gamestop employee for scarring my freshman year of college. I mean this with the utmost respect.
> 
> Also, as someone in their mid 30's, its so weird to play persona games and relate to the adults more than the kids. I 100% understand Sojiro, and it makes me feel the olds.
> 
> Also as someone with my own noisy black cat, buddy. Please. Stop sitting on my feet while I try to cook dinner.

AKIRA

“Hey. Hold up a minute, would you?”

Akira froze, looking a hair guilty under his hood. His bag squirmed, and Sojiro leaned with a small grin against the counter. “And turn the sign to closed before someone gets any ideas that I actually want to sell them coffee.”

Akira dutifully did so. To think, when Sojiro took him in eight months ago he thought the kid would actually **_be_** a delinquent. Now, the only thing Sojiro had for the teen was pride. And worry. Hoo boy, a lot of worry too.

Akira set his shoulder bag down and unzipped it just a little further than it already was, and there it was. Or **_he_**. Sojiro still had to get used to that concept.

The bag wiggled a little more forcefully and Morgana made a show of worming out of the hole, hollering in irritated yelps.

“Sorry,” Akira said, unzipping it just a hair more.

“You **_know_** I know he’s in there,” Sojiro said sternly. “Just open it all the way and let Morgana out.”

The cat chirruped and Akira laughed a little as he squatted down to open the bag completely. Morgana mewled at him, shook himself out, and stuck out his tiny tongue before going to trot up the stairs.

“Now hold on a moment, young man,” Sojiro said sternly.

Akira, still squatting, froze, his shoulders hunched up like he knew he was about to get blamed for something. Morgana stopped too, tail mid-swish.

“Not **_you_** , Akira. I was talking to Morgana.”

Morgana immediately returned to trotting at the same pace, pretending to be a normal cat.

“I **_know_** you understand me,” Sojiro bellowed, though he knew how good a cat’s hearing could be. “Come back down **_this_** instant.”

A moment later, Sojiro heard a thump as Morgana jumped back down the stairs. He raised an eyebrow as Morgana slunk next to Akira. Sojiro didn’t know if he was projecting- the cat was sentient after all- but Morgana looked almost… guilty?

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Sojiro said with a chuckle and a smile. “Unless you want to fess up to something? No, I just wanted to talk. Take a seat, Morgana.”

Morgana blinked twice and eked out a small squeak.

“Akira, translate for me, would you?”

“He… uh,” Akira said, embarrassed. “He wanted to know if you meant sit at the counter.”

Sojiro tutted. “You ever see a press conference on the news, kid? The translator doesn’t use ‘he said’ or ‘she said’. They just speak for the person in question. And **_yes_** , Morgana,” Sojiro said, looking down at the cat that, for nearly eight months, left not a scratch or tuft of fur anywhere in the shop. “On a stool, please. I don’t want to loom over you.”

Morgana wiggled a moment before pouncing, landing neatly on a seat. Akira shrugged and hoisted himself next to him, tapping his fingers on the counter without any rhythm.

“I… uh,” Sojiro said, as he looked Morgana in the eye, finally realizing what he was doing, sighing at the absurdity. “I’m talking to a **_cat_**.”

Morgana mewled irritably.

“He sa- er, I mean,” Akira interjected, scratching the back of his head as he pulled the hood down on his sweatshirt. “I’m not a cat.”

Morgana put a front paw to his face and make a sound halfway between a choke and a purr. Sojiro wondered if he was laughing.

Akira rolled his eyes. “Say ‘I want to date Futaba’.”

“You **_wha_** \- oh. You’re translating. Morgana, **_don’t be mean_**.” Sojiro lightly bopped Morgana on the head. “Anyway. I called you ‘young man’. Is that wrong?”

“I don’t know how old I am, honestly. I’m missing a chunk of my memory. But I’ll take it over cat, thanks.”

Sojiro had to grit his teeth and remind himself this was Morgana talking, not Akira. It still stung a bit, though. “Oh,” he said quietly. “I see.”

“Pleasantries out of the way, what did you need from me? Akira and I were going to work on something upstairs.”

“Ah, yeah,” Sojiro said, scratching the back of his head. It was still unnerving, having a conversation with a not-a-cat in the voice of someone he was basically treating like a son. “I uh… I wanted to make sure you were comfortable around here. Did you want your own bed? I could get you something from the pet… er. Sorry.”

Morgana rolled his eyes and sighed. “You can say pet bed. I know you’re giving me cat food too, you know.”

“Oh, uh, but you said you weren’t a cat, so…”

“I am still cat sized!” Akira ducked a little, embarrassed by what he was saying on behalf of his friend.

Sojiro leaned over the counter, laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

He swept his hand between them. “ ** _This_**. Just everything.”

“We can stop, you know.”

“I didn’t mean just talking to you, Morgana. I meant… well, everything. Futaba. What you are- or will be doing- to Shido. You all just… jumping in peoples’ brains to do mental surgery. I don’t even know **_what_** to think anymore.”

Morgana just shook his head, making the same sound from earlier.

“Is that what your laugh sounds like?”

Morgana looked up and nodded. “I was laughing. What did it sound like to you?”

“Like you were choking on a purr.”

“Ah.” Morgana shifted uneasily, tail flicking back and forth, and ears bent inward. “So… you just wanted to know if I needed anything?”

“Yeah. You’re under my roof too, you know. I can’t have my reputation ruined because I was a shitty guardian.”

“I know what’s coming,” Akira grumbled under his breath as Morgana went on a tirade of meows.

“Sushi,” was all Akira said after Morgana finished his unintelligible rant.

Morgana’s ears pulled back flat against his head as he turned to look at the teen in the chair beside him, meowing furiously.

“I’m not explaining all that.”

This response was met with the only thing Morgana had at his disposal to Sojiro’s ears- more meowing.

“I’m certainly not going to whine in the same way you are either, Mona.”

“You’re still his translator, Akira,” Sojiro said with a wry smile as the teen’s phone chimed with a text message. Akira looked visibly relived to have an out- until he pulled up the phone, read the message, and started pulling at his hair.

“Futaba **_please_** ,” he whined to the air. “And I’m not going to act it out either. Come **_on_**.”

His text beeped again. Morgana deftly jumped and scrambled up Akira’s shoulder to read alongside as Sojiro got the hint.

“Futaba, what did I say about listening in on the shop?” Sojiro sighed out. His own phone beeped.

> >but it’s funny. n all of us can hear mona in recordings too.

“Turn off the wiretap and come to the shop yourself, Futaba.”

> >no can do. working on stuff. need desktop processing power.

“Akira, please let me know what Morgana said,” Sojiro asked, defeated, with a sigh. “You don’t need to use his tone of voice. If I could have a conversation without your help, I’d be doing it.”

Morgana mewled and jumped from Akira’s shoulder back to his own chair, indignantly chittering away.

“I want sushi. Fatty tuna especially. That box of sushi Akira gave you over the summer? **_Remember that box_**? That box was MINE.” Akira himself was trying to stifle a laugh as he spoke, over-exaggerating to the point of pantomime.

Sojiro raised an eyebrow and leaned over conspiratorially. “It **was** , was it? But you all used it to make me think you were dropping it off at home. That was some **_real_** expensive sushi, too.”

“And he’s still sore over it,” Akira said, jabbing a thumb at Morgana. “That was almost four months ago.”

“More than four months ago,” Akira added dryly, cutting himself off for Morgana’s sake.

“Well, we can’t afford to go get-” Sojiro started, about to tell Morgana that they couldn’t do it every night, but he’d be willing to order it out as a peace offering.

Morgana cut him off with an irate hiss, jumped off the seat, and nearly flung himself up the stairs.

“Mona, what are you-” Akira called, sliding off his seat to chase the not-a-cat down.

Before he could even get to the bottom of the steps, Morgana had already returned with a wad of 10,000-yen bills in his mouth, delicately spitting them out on the counter.

“ ** _Sushi_**.”

* * *

FUTABA

“Do I even want to know where the money came from?”

Sojiro, Futaba and Akira sat at one of Leblanc’s booths, a massive tray of delivery sushi between them all. Morgana sat on a counter stool pulled over to the table so he could sit at eye level to the rest of the group, eyeing the platter like a hunter, mewling.

“We sell off stuff we find in the Metaverse,” Futaba explained for Morgana before frowning. “Wait, really? The stuff can be pulled out in the real world as is? Okumura’s treasure was just a model kit.”

“You’re translating now, too?” Sojiro said, with a playful smile.

“Mona, I didn’t realize that stuff could keep,” Futaba added, looking past her father to their four-legged dinner partner. “Even though that kit was worth a lot.”

Morgana nodded and meowed; Akira sighed and took over the translation. “There’s an airsoft shop that buys a lot of it. And the secondhand clothes store in Kichijoji pays surprisingly good money for any clothes and draperies we find.”

Sojiro cracked up laughing. “Wait, you really **_do_** steal? Like, you raid the wardrobes inside peoples’ minds?!”

Morgana made the sound Sojiro understood was his laugh.

“If it’s not nailed down, it’s ours. Now are we just going to stare at this sushi?”

“Ah, yeah, right,” Sojiro admitted, breaking his disposable chopsticks, as he side-eyed Futaba. He’d have words for his two boys later regarding something else, but for now…

“Morgana gets first choice. He did pay.”

“From **_our_** war funds,” Akira grumbled, eyeing the beast.

“Yes, well. We won’t make a habit of it. You wanted fatty tuna, yes? What else, Morgana?”

Morgana sat up straight and nodded, looking Sojiro in the eye as he cried out his order, which Futaba relayed with relish.

“And extra wasabi.”

“You can have that?” Sojiro asked. “You’re not a cat but-”

“Oh, he eats chocolate, too,” Futaba supplied, swiping three mackerel now that Morgana had a plate. Sojiro watched as Morgana leaned forward, sniffing everything, as if he were waiting for something.

“Did you… did you want chopsticks?”

“Can’t use them in this form,” Futaba offered, after Morgana quietly chittered something under his breath.

“ ** _This_** form?”

“I have **_hands_** in the Metaverse. I just… can you bring this upstairs?” Futaba seemed to be enjoying speaking on Morgana’s behalf, trying to make her voice sound a little scratchier. Sojiro wondered what the not-a-cat sounded like to them.

“What? You’re just as much a part of this family.” Sojiro glared. “You can eat with us.”

“But I… I eat **_like a cat_**.”

“So?” Sojiro shrugged and put down his chopsticks. “I’ll eat with my hands.”

“What, no, Sojiro,” Futaba whined as she clasped her hands behind her back, grinning. She leaned forward into her plate, like she were apple bobbing, and grabbed a piece of sushi with her teeth, leaned back, and flung the entire piece in her mouth. “Shee?” she said mouth full. “I chan eat like Mona chan.”

Sojiro sighed and shook his head, clasping his own hands behind his back. “Just delete the footage, Futaba,” he sighed, mimicking her actions on his own plate, though half the rice fell off his piece of squid, swallowing awkwardly. “And don’t talk and eat. **_That’s_** rude.”

“When in Thebes,” Akira muttered as he followed suit.

Morgana chirruped in a way that told Sojiro he was correcting Akira, before diving headfirst for his own plate, too.

* * *

ANN

“Oh, good morning, Ann-chan,” Sojiro said, surprised. “Akira is out, though.”

“That’s fine,” she replied brightly. “I just needed his work bench upstairs. He said I could use it. I brought my own lunch.”

“I may pop upstairs with a snack for you later,” he said, smiling, as one of his regulars clicked his cup, a sign the man wanted a refill.

“Thank you, Mr. Sakura!”

* * *

“I closed up for lunch break and… **_what in the world_**?”

Ann was hunched over a project on Akira’s work desk, practically covered in glitter, Morgana sprawled on the shelf above, presumably barking out instructions.

“Mona, I just… I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Can’t what?” Sojiro asked louder, as the two of them turned to acknowledge him. “Don’t worry, Ann. I can’t understand him, but Akira and Futaba have been translating.”

“Ah! Oh. Um. Morgana is teaching me how to make bombs for the Metaverse.”

Sojiro narrowed his eyes and slammed the tray of snacks down on an end table a little too forcefully. “ ** _Bombs_**?!”

Morgana chirruped quickly, paws up almost as if he were apologizing. He probably was.

“Whoa now. I’m not mad… yet. **_Explain_**.”

“Um… Morgana says…”

Morgana glared and meowed.

“Oh, translating. Right. I’ve had to do this between English and Japanese before. Hang on. Um.”

Ann cleared her throat and adjusted her pitch. “In the real world, it’s just a glitter bomb. But in the Metaverse, everything is ruled by cognition. You know enough about Wakaba’s research, yes? So over there, the monsters we fight think they’re real, so they **_are_** and do damage. I usually have Akira make them, but he needed to do something important and Ann had free time, so…”

Ann carefully lifted her safety goggles, a clear ring where the goggles protected her from the glitter present. “Guilty,” she added in her own voice. “But it’s a lot harder than I thought. I can’t keep the spring in place and am just getting covered in the stuff.”

Sojiro laughed. “Well, Ann-chan, that’s my old work desk. Why don’t you take a break and I’ll give it a try?”

Morgana whined a little.

“I’d do it myself if I had hands,” Ann said for him with a half-smile.

“Well you don’t. So, team effort. Morgana, you explain, Ann, you translate, and I’ll see if I can whip this up for you. But if I see one of these anywhere outside this corner of Akira’s room, I’m putting Morgana on kibble for a week.”

* * *

HARU

“Haru-chan!” Sojiro had just flipped the sign to closed as she waved a small hello, carrying a large tote bag filled with thermoses.

“Hello, Mr. Sakura, sir. I know you said I could use the drips after hours so I thought I would take you up on that.”

“Of course, come on in. Akira’s still out, though.”

“Oh, yes, he’s negotiating for some new weapons for us.”

Sojiro crossed his arms, as he heard Morgana chirp from the stool behind him.

“What, are they fakes like the explosives?” Sojiro asked, eyeing the not-cat.

Haru clapped her hands in excitement. “You understand Mona, now, Mr. Sakura? That’s wonderful!”

“Understand is a bit of a stretch,” Sojiro admitted. “Context clues.”

“Ah,” Haru said, a bit crestfallen.

“And a bunch of translators,” Sojiro added. “Ann told me earlier that fake bombs in the Metaverse act like the real thing there.”

Haru nodded, taking out a few thermoses to start making coffee. “Mhmm. I use toy axes. They’re awfully heavy in the Metaverse, but it’s a nice workout!”

“ ** _Axes_**?” Sojiro let his glasses fall down his nose a bit. “An… interesting choice.”

“Oh, and paint balloon launchers. They’re grenade launchers in the Metaverse,” she added with a little too much glee.

“So that’s why you needed bombs.”

“Oh no, they don’t need ammo,” she said, starting her first pour with the grace of someone who brewed a lot of fancy teas. “If the Shadows think they’re fully loaded, they are. The bombs just let us have a bit of an edge on them.”

“Crazy…” Sojiro said, shaking his head. “But that also means if you think you get hurt, you do for real, yeah?”

Morgana chirped from his seat.

“Oh, yes, I can talk for you,” Haru replied to him. “Making coffee is kind of a mindless activity anyway. Morgana heals us. Ann too, but Morgana is the better healer.”

Sojiro wasn’t sure, but he let his mind assume that Morgana looked impossibly smug about the compliment.

Sojiro eyed Morgana, addressing him directly. “Do you… use weapons too? You said the other day you have hands in the Metaverse.” Sojiro already ate sushi like a cat and got incredibly precise instructions on making glitter bombs. How much weirder was asking a house pet about their favorite types of weaponry?

“Scimitars.”

Sojiro blinked. “Um, **_what_**?”

“They’re curved swords. I also use a slingshot. And, Haru, make mine mostly milk please. Oh,” Haru said smiling lightly. “I didn’t need to translate that too. Of course, Mona-chan.”

“Hey, I like being part of the conversation,” Sojiro said with a light laugh. “Let me guess, the coffee is for your little mind trips too. What does it turn into in there?”

“ ** _Coffee_** ,” Haru said matter-of-factly. “There’s no vending machines in Mementos.”

* * *

MAKOTO

Akira, Futaba, and Morgana came home the next night, an exhausted whirlwind trailing glitter.

“ ** _Ahem_** ,” Sojiro said sternly, pointing at the floor. “No dinner until that’s cleaned up.”

Akira slumped into a booth; a small cloud followed.

“Change first, kid, you’re just making it worse.”

“Fine, **_fine_** ,” Akira whined, belying exhaustion.

“I don’t know whose mind you jumped into today-”

“Everyone’s,” Futaba cut in.

“Every-? Oh, I’m not even going to ask… Look, just… I need to keep some sense of pretense. Akira isn’t supposed to be alive. If there’s too much weird in the shop, it’ll draw attention.”

“Makoto didn’t come today,” Futaba said, practically falling into a different booth and oddly free of glitter. “I’ll ask if she can help.”

Sojiro was about to put up a finger to protest until he saw even Morgana slump on the floor.

“Fine. I’ll cook for five.”

* * *

“All done,” Makoto announced, slinging an apron back onto the hook as she slid in next to Akira in the booth. “And I’m staying after to catch this one up on his schoolwork.”

“Thank you,” Sojiro beamed as he placed plates of pork katsu curry in front of the two of them, then grabbed two more for himself and Futaba but didn’t sit. “Morgana, dinner,” he called to the upstairs room as he drew over a bar stool and a fifth plate of curry with its pork left un-breaded and cut into bite sized chunks.

Morgana jumped up in a fluid motion to his seat, chirped, and shoved his face into his plate.

“I made yours extra spicy,” Sojiro said. “Hope it’s all right.”

Morgana looked up, sauce dribbling down his chin, mewled a little, and dove back in.

Makoto stared.

“I can’t speak Morgana,” Sojiro admitted. “But I’m getting along without, I think.”

* * *

Futaba had already gone home and crashed in bed, and Akira was practically a dead man walking. Morgana seemed a bit slow but was still chittering away with Makoto a million miles an hour.

“Go to bed, kid,” Sojiro gruffed. “I’ll close up.”

Morgana whined.

“What, don’t tell me you’ll lock the shop,” Sojiro tutted, regretting his choice of words the minute Morgana hissed at him. “Oh. You can?”

Sojiro was about to say ‘prove it’, before realizing it was a bit too confrontational. He settled on “Show me, please.”

He held the door open for Makoto. “If Morgana can lock shop, you can stay if you want to.”

“Oh, trust me, that’s no problem,” she said with a small grin, walking into the alleyway. “He’s locked and unlocked plenty in the real world.”

“Even with those-”

 ** _Click_**.

“-paws? Huh, that **_is_** something else,” Sojiro said, trying the door and peeking in the window to see a very smug black not-cat peering at him with something akin to a death glare. “Okay, Morgana. You win. Let us in.”

A moment later, the lock clicked loudly, and Sojiro turned the knob to go back inside. “I’ll just finish my cleaning and go. Don’t mind me.”

Makoto slid back into a booth and pulled out some worksheets, Morgana jumping up with his forepaws on the table to look over her shoulder. Sojiro half wanted to tell Morgana to sit down, but he’d be too short to see.

He made a mental note to wash the table in the morning. It wasn’t as though the books were totally clean, either.

“So, let’s start with this one,” Makoto said, pointing at something with her eraser. “Remember, FOIL.”

Sojiro chuckled a little as he washed the last of the dishes. “Foil? Are you teaching Morgana **_algebra_**?”

“I would have been teaching both of them,” Makoto said, jabbing her pencil upwards to point to the attic, “but Akira will have to get it secondhand.”

“Crazy kids,” Sojiro muttered, as he went back to putting away the last of the cutlery.

* * *

They worked in relative silence, Morgana chittering softly, Makoto writing down what he was supposedly saying, and Sojiro washing up the drips. Suddenly, out of the blue, Morgana yowled. Sojiro almost shattered the carafe he was wiping down.

“Stuck?”

“We both are, actually,” Makoto admitted. “I don’t remember ever learning this.”

“Well, I was just about to leave, so let me see. If that were five minutes later, I would be halfway home.”

Morgana laughed.

“Hey, see here, Mister Not A Cat,” Sojiro insisted, “Just because I’m a barista now doesn’t mean I don’t know my stuff. I used to work in government. Good luck getting a position like mine without passing twenty exams.”

Morgana and Makoto stared, mouths agape.

“Oh, I still can’t understand a word you say, Morgana, but that doesn’t mean I can’t tell when I’m being picked on. Now shove over, I’ll prove I’m not rusty.”

* * *

YUSUKE

Snow fell in heavy enough drifts that Sojiro didn’t bother opening the shop, even though it was a Sunday. Election day was creeping in fast, and he assumed the kids would need to use the shop more and more, anyway.

The addition of a small stack of 10,000-yen bills mysteriously appearing in his till certainly wasn’t swaying his decision to stay closed; not at all. And he was honest about that; it was all going into a pouch he’d hand back to Akira when the year was up. Tell the Kurusus it was all the money he’d earned working in the shop over the year.

He didn’t need the money- he owned the house and shop, and his government pension was enough to live on if he really needed to. But he pretended that it was swaying his decision to keep the shop hours just above non-functional, especially if it would make the group of teens (and one not-a-cat) feel less like they were imposing on the space.

This morning, Yusuke had pulled a chair up to the painting he’d kindly donated and was doing little more than staring intently at it with a cup of coffee in one hand and the other between Morgana’s ears.

“Akira had to run an errand, he’ll be back by lunch,” Sojiro told the beanpole of a teen.

“Thank you, however, I am already aware of that,” Yusuke replied airily. “I am happy just enjoying the quiet calm of this place.”

“Er, actually,” Sojiro said, after nearly ten minutes of silence. “Can I bother you about something?”

“Hm? What is it, Boss?”

“You… uh. You went into Futaba’s heart, didn’t you?”

“We did,” Yusuke replied, keeping his responses curt. He had the tact to not expose her innermost feelings without her explicit permission.

“She told me it was a pyramid.”

Yusuke looked relived that he wouldn’t have to deny Sojiro an answer. “Ah, yes. It was resplendent. I wish I had the time to do more than a few quick sketches while we caught our breath.”

“Morgana here also told me that you all steal- in his words- anything that isn’t nailed down. “

Yusuke looked down at the not-a-cat making biscuits on his leg, pretending like he wasn’t. Morgana mewled.

“Ah, through Akira and Futaba,” Yusuke said with a nod. “I was almost going to ask what your Persona might be. Did you want to continue that conversation with Morgana? I would be happy to act as his mouthpiece on your behalf.”

“Er,” Sojiro wheezed out.

Morgana sat up ramrod straight, yowling away.

Yusuke blinked a little and pitched up his own voice, possibly to distinguish his translation from his own speech like Ann and Futaba had done. “Let me guess,” Yusuke said, extremely out of character. “You wanna know what they stole out of Futaba.”

Sojiro flicked his eyes between Yusuke and the feline-like beast perched in his lap and sighed. “It was a pyramid, and those things are full of paintings and books, right? I… I wanted to know if there was anything with us in it. All of us.”

“You mean with Wakaba, Futaba, and you?”

“I have maybe three photos of all of us. So, yeah.”

“That’s why you didn’t want to ask in front of Futaba.”

Yusuke frowned and relaxed his voice to his own pitch and cadence. “I feel as though I’m intruding on something personal here.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I weren’t okay with you hearing. I just… didn’t know if Futaba has seen any of it, since she didn’t know you kept what you stole.”

“Oh, unfortunately, we sell most of it to afford our equipment. Morgana and Akira oversee both our team funds and the artifacts we heist.”

Morgana chirped, jumping off Yusuke with the grace of an Olympic gymnast, locking eyes with Sojiro before heading to the storage room steps.

“Morgana wants-”

“Me upstairs,” Sojiro said, solemnly as he tied his rag into his apron.

* * *

“This is a shit way to store priceless artifacts,” Sojiro said, looking at the mess of cardboard boxes on the industrial shelf in the attic room. “You sure I can raid these?”

“Morgana is the one who manages our stock,” Yusuke said with a dismissive shrug. “He’s far better able to discern somethings’ value than the rest of us.”

“The Futaba box is the third one on the left,” Yusuke added, in his altered Morgana-voice.

“Yeah, I was wondering why this box was filled with PC parts.” Sojiro pushed the box he was sorting though back until it slotted in the shelf and pulled on the correct one.

“Okumura.” As if that provided any explanation. If anything, Futaba’s mind was the one filled with technology.

Sojiro pulled out a small, heavy cat statue. “Oh, Bastet.”

Yusuke’s eyes lit up. “Ah, I wasn’t aware that you fancied the arts, Boss.”

“Well, not the same way you do. But Futaba’s always been fascinated with Egypt. She has a hieroglyphics poster on the back of her door and a massive book on the gods.”

“That does explain the décor. Of her palace. There were many TVs filled with murals.”

“What a strange combination,” Sojiro muttered into the box, as he sorted through carefully. There was a lot of jewelry. Made sense, thematically, with the bonus of it being small and easy to transport. “Are the scrolls safe to unwrap?”

“Yes, they’re not actually thousands of years old.”

Sojiro unrolled the first one, pouring over it. “Futaba would understand the symbology behind this better than I ever could,” he said, a small gasp escaping him like a bit of his soul had floated out into the aether of the room. It was unmistakable, though, as a work of Futaba draped, half asleep at her desk, a steaming bowl of Sojiro’s curry next to her outstretched hand. “I wish I could have been there with you. I should have been able to-”

Morgana jumped forward, putting a paw on Sojiro’s leg.

“You did. You did help her. And her palace is gone, but she’s not fully healed. You still have work to do.”

* * *

RYUJI

Ryuji was herding cats.

Well, cat. **_Singular_**.

Maybe not even cat.

Ryuji was herding Morgana, upstairs. The minute that the shop closed, to boot.

Sojiro threw his towel down and stormed up the steps. “What in the blue blazes?”

Ryuji was attempting to wrangle a furious Morgana, a pair of pet clippers in his teeth.

“Mwha?” Ryuji asked, grinding his teeth to hold the tool in place as he tried to pin a screaming Morgana to his chest.

“Stop this, **_this instant_** ,” Sojiro bellowed, and both boys froze.

“Hwat did ai do?”

“Not you. **_Morgana_**. You’re acting like a child. **_Everyone_** clips their nails. If you want me to treat you like another person in this household, you **_act like one_** , you hear me?”

Morgana stopped squirming and did what Sojiro was positive was a sigh. He wormed his way out of Ryuji’s arms to sit at Sojiro’s feet, tail swishing in agitation.

“Unless you use your claws to fight, you need to clip them. You’re not a cat, but as a cat-adjacent young man you should know your nails can curve back around and hurt your paws. Now give it here.”

Morgana sighed again and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Ryuji spit out the nail clippers, wiped them off on a pant leg, and passed them to Sojiro.

“Hot damn, boss.”

“No words out of you, either,” Sojiro snipped. “Clearly Morgana doesn’t like it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we accidentally make him bleed when we clip. So, he squirms, and then we can’t keep the little shit still enough to clip ‘em straight.”

“Well now, this sounds like Futaba,” Sojiro said with a laugh, taking the tool and plopping himself on the floor. Cautiously, Morgana walked into his lap, sat, and held out a paw, shaking like a leaf.

“Mrow?”

If Sojiro let his imagination wander a little, he could almost mistake the cry for Futaba’s name.

“Yeah, Futaba. Back when… well, back when Wakaba was alive, Futaba was something of a wild child sometimes. She’d spend hours buck naked reading books on the toilet. Wakaba had to put them on high shelves so she wouldn’t just hole up and read, stealing the bathroom. And she was so afraid of people cutting her nails as a kid. Wakaba called me over once to help, it was actually so bad, Futaba threw her shirt at me and streaked, screaming through the hall.”

Ryuji almost choked on his spit as he sat, watching Sojiro, completely absorbed.

“How’d you manage it, Boss?”

“Same way I’m doing now. **_Distraction_**.” Morgana blinked, suddenly aware that Sojiro wasn’t holding his paw anymore. “See? One down. Three to go. I’d like to think you’re a bit more mature than a six-year-old, right Morgana? Hey, at least this time I’m not liable for child services barging in because I’m wrestling a screaming naked kid in my lap.” Sojiro grinned at the statement, looking down at his small charge, almost as if he were daring Morgana to deny the similarity.

Morgana whined and put down the first paw, dutifully holding up the second.

He wasn’t shaking this time.

* * *

MORGANA

“Mona?” Ann reached over and scratched him behind an ear, an excuse to peek over at what he was doing, waiting for the cognitive subway train’s howling whoosh to fade into the distance before continuing. “You know better than all of us it’s no good to stay in one place too long here.”

“Mph,” Morgana mumbled. “This platform’s plenty safe. And Skull’s still getting healed by Queen, isn’t he?”

Ann nodded. “Still, I’m worried we’ll get cornered by the thing with chains again.”

“We heard it coming the last few times, didn’t we?” Morgana was practically pleading, hunched over something he didn’t want anyone to see.

“I guess we are right next to the stairs,” Ann rationalized. “Just… be quick?” She spared Morgana one last nod and stepped away to chat quietly with the rest of the team.

Morgana turned back to the parchment and brush he’d nicked out of Yusuke’s pocket and quickly went back to work, flexing the fingers he knew he’d only have until they finished with Mementos for the day.

* * *

“You kids look beat, here,” Sojiro said warmly, as a gaggle of exhausted teens burst into his shop. He had a few customers, still, but they were all old regulars willing to shift around a little to make sure the group could sit together as a unit. Morgana groaned. It meant he was relegated to inside Akira’s bag until the last patron got the sense to leave.

Morgana curled up and huffed, annoyed further as the smell of Sojiro’s curry danced on his nose just out of reach.

“Hey, kid,” Sojiro said, loudly and just overhead. “Why don’t I take your things upstairs for you? I’ll even bring you up another plate. I know you get hungry while you study.”

Akira took the hint and grunted in approval. Morgana braced for having his carrier lifted and gently slung on Sojiro’s shoulder as he shifted back until the smell of curry was wrapped around him like a blanket.

“Hard boiled egg, pork, or shrimp?” Sojiro hissed. “Wait, that’s stupid to ask. Um. Cough one, two or three times? Can you cough?”

Morgana pressed a paw into Sojiro’s shoulder through the fabric once.

“Egg, huh? Two for yes.”

Morgana pressed twice, annoyed and extremely hungry. He could feel Sojiro chuckling through the bag.

“And real spicy?”

Two more irritated prods.

“Someone’s pushy,” Sojiro snickered, as Morgana heard a few plates clatter.

“I’m bringing it all up now. There’s a cloche to keep it warm.”

“Thanks, Sojiro,” Akira said tiredly, but with a bit of cheer. “Bag was getting heavy anyway.”

“Next time you kids all go out for laser tag, maybe ease up a bit? Not everything needs to be a competition.”

“To the DEATH!” Futaba shouted, waving her spoon around.

Sojiro sighed quietly. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

* * *

Sojiro placed the plate of curry on Akira’s empty end table, and gently deposited Morgana’s bag to the floor. “You can come out now,” Sojiro muttered, unzipping it. “Sorry for shoving you up here.” Without thinking, Sojiro put a hand on Morgana’s head, stroking the fur between his ears, before pulling it away like he’d burned his fingers on the stove.

Morgana looked up, blinked, and chittered softly.

“Are you not yelling because I have customers downstairs or because it’s… okay?”

Morgana chittered again, sighed, and put his front paws up on Sojiro’s bent knee. Hesitantly, Sojiro put his hand on Morgana’s head. Morgana chittered at him lightly.

“I guess you’ve seen me pat Futaba’s head, yeah,” Sojiro said, if only to console himself on his own behavior. “You’re one of the family, kid, so eat before its cold.”

Morgana nodded into his hand before leaping up on the table, shoving his head into the recessed plate. Sojiro stood up, brushing off his pant legs. “Gonna go downstairs and finish up and head out, squirt. Thanks for watching over the kids.”

Morgana squeaked, dripping curry roux off his chin.

“You needed something?”

Morgana flicked his eyes and settled on a towel, hanging on a low hook. He flung himself to it, wiping off the sauce and leaving a reddish-brown streak on the blue terry cloth, before diving back for the bag. In an instant, his head popped back out, a large folded piece of paper clenched in his teeth. Gently, he headbutted Sojiro with it.

“For me?”

Morgana nodded.

“Did you write this?”

Another nod.

Sojiro looked closely at it. The edge had been torn neatly in such a way that the paper interlaced, keeping it shut without wax or glue. On one side, in almost textbook-neat handwriting, it said:

> _-Please open tomorrow evening, one hour after we all leave.-_

Sojiro frowned. “Tomorrow, then? You’re all going after Shido for real tomorrow?”

Morgana nodded, hopped back up on the table, and shoved his face back in the curry.

* * *

> _\--Boss._
> 
> _Now that I actually have the chance to tell you something without using someone else as a filter, I don’t really know what to say. Just… thanks. Even when you thought I was some stupid stray, you cared. We saved Futaba, and I swear it, we’ll save Akira from the same fate by changing Shido. Maybe it’ll help you too. It won’t bring Wakaba back, I know._
> 
> _Nothing can bring back what we lost._
> 
> _But we can only look forward, right? There’s nothing else we can do._
> 
> _I might… I don’t know. I might not come back tonight. But I’m sure as hell going to make sure those kids come home. All of ‘em._
> 
> _Morgana—_

If Sojiro had tears in his eyes, it was only due to the sting of the cold December night.

* * *

SOJIRO

Sojiro waited in the shop. The TV was on, but he’d long since tuned it out. The TV hijack was something else. He wondered if that was limited to Tokyo or if the whole nation got a glimpse. One silhouette struck out in particular- the one half the size of the others, on tiny feet.

So that’s what Morgana looked like in cognition. He thought for a split second he’d make a good candy mascot, then quickly dismissed the notion as rude.

All of them spoke in that video too, hadn’t they? Though, thanks to his incredible daughter, all their voices were distorted nearly beyond recognition. It was the first time Sojiro probably heard Morgana speak, and he couldn’t even tell if it really happened or not.

So, two in the morning, and Sojiro was engrossed in a cooking magazine, if only to soothe frayed nerves. The shop bell tinkled, and Sojiro nearly dropped the book. He’d locked up, so-

“Straight to bed, right this instant!” In Sojiro’s dazed state, he’d thought it was Futaba speaking, though the voice was a bit scratchier than he was expecting.

“Okay, shiesh, I’m going. I’m exhausted anyway, oh, hi, Sojiro,” Akira replied. “We dropped Futaba off first, thought you’d be home there. You didn’t need to wait up.”

“Didn’t need to…? Akira, you and your friends scared me near half to death.” Sojiro blinked. The only person before him was Akira, in his school uniform of all things, and scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.

Morgana was making irritated biscuits on his shoulder.

“How did you get in my house, anyway? Futaba doesn’t have a key.”

“Futaba doesn’t have a keeeey,” mocked the scratchy young-child voice, before leaning conspiratorially to Akira’s ear. “Boss still doubts my skills.”

“Morgana took care of it, and locked back up too,” Akira explained.

“Ah,” Sojiro replied at a loss for words, blinking out the realization that there really was a perfectly coherent talking cat in his house.

It was the sleep deprivation, it had to be.

Or maybe, just maybe, he finally understood **_both_** boys that lived under his roof.

“You two both sleep, you hear? I’m sure there’s going to be some hell of a fallout come tomorrow.”

“Yes, boss,” Akira said, face drooping from exhaustion.

“Yes, boss,” Morgana chirped, looking Sojiro straight in the eye. “You read it, didn’t you?”

Sojiro just stared and nodded.

“Did I… miss something?” Akira asked shifting Morgana to his other shoulder.

“Nothing I can’t tell you after a good night’s sleep, come on,” Morgana nudged. “And good night, Boss. I expect a double helping of curry for breakfast.”

Sojiro broke down laughing from the absurdity of it all. “That cat of yours just won’t shut up, will he?”

“He must be meowing up a storm, right, Morgana?” Akira said with a smirk. “Well, the chatterbox and I are getting some shut eye.”

“Hey!” Morgana whined, as Akira lurched forward towards the steps. “I still have words for Boss.”

“I’m sure you do, Morgana. Sure you do.”


End file.
